my husband. the dreamy dream boat.

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Usually, I do not publicly declare my love for my husband.  At least, not on social media.  I may possess the  belief that people who proclaim their love often and loud on those outlets are secretly in divorce counseling.  Fear not!  Nick and I are not secretly in counseling for hating each other’s guts!  Nor do we hate each other’s guts.  Boy, I fear this whole “brain mass decline” in the third trimester may leave some need for clarity in my writing.

This second pregnancy has been different for both of us.  For instance, during my first pregnancy this is how an exchange might have gone: “Get me a hot dog before I stab you with a prison shank”  (sadly, I think I may have actually said this) Second pregnancy goes like this: “Hey Kaley, I brought you a blizzard from DQ because I’m super nice and you haven’t threatened to kill me during this pregnancy!”

My hormones are making me look at Nick through rose colored glasses.  He looks super handsome and does things that make him look strong.  I’m glad my hormones are helping me out.  Thanks guys!  But you’re probably girls because your pregnant hormones… Thanks Girls!

Here is a small list of things Nick does that make him a dreamy dream boat:

  • Unloads the dishwasher since I kept dropping dishes
  • Cooks dinner… a lot.  More than he should have to.
  • That one time he brought me a Blizzard
  • complimenting me on looking nice ONLY because I put on jeans instead of comfy pregnant spandex
  • not smothering me in the middle of the night when I snore like a viking
  • responding to my crazy by taking a deep breathe and agreeing with me, even if I’m really wrong
  • being a hunky dream boat in general

And there you have it.

 

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